


Rapacious From the Very Start

by InkandOwl



Series: Love and Feeling [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Trans Eddie Kaspbrak, Trans Male Character, just 4k of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkandOwl/pseuds/InkandOwl
Summary: The last time Richie had seen Eddie, they were something like amorphous human blobs. That’s what preteens basically are, right? Just weird limbs and round cheeks, childlike button noses, and button mouths that spew curse words that come out clumsy and loud. Eddie was always small hands and small feet with eyes the size of dinner plates and a feral attitude, and Richie doesn’t think there was ever a minute that he wasn’t drawn to every single one of his freckles and every neatly brushed hair on his head.So Richie had blinked, and then he was forty. He’s faced down a clown,twice, and he’s unearthed what makes him inherently Richie in the shape of his friends, and his freedom. He’s forty and he’s running his thumb over the rough stubble on Eddie’s face, a little shaggier than his usually clean shaven look from a stint in the hospital and his own midlife crisis.—Eddie wants, he's always wanted, but it's only ever been Richie that he trusts.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Love and Feeling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665349
Comments: 41
Kudos: 522





	Rapacious From the Very Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is just, really indulgent porn honestly. I wanted to see more older trans!Eddie fic, and just more sexy trans fic in general so I went ahead and wrote it myself. I also wanted more fic of Richie and Eddie being stupid in bed together, and Richie acting like an animal half the time. I'm over on tumblr, inkandowl, so come say hi!

The last time Richie had seen Eddie, they were something like amorphous human blobs. That’s what preteens basically are, right? Just weird limbs and round cheeks, childlike button noses, and button mouths that spew curse words that come out clumsy and loud. Eddie was always small hands and small feet with eyes the size of dinner plates and a feral attitude, and Richie doesn’t think there was ever a minute that he wasn’t drawn to every single one of his freckles and every neatly brushed hair on his head. 

Richie also remembers what it was like in the 80s. Not just for gay boys like himself, but for boys like Eddie. Boys who liked other boys but were given dresses and told to answer to names that weren’t theirs. The first time Eddie had cut his hair, it took him days to convince his mom. He had to tell her the benefits, that it was safer and that it would stay cleaner longer. She didn’t want him to get all of those long, soft brown curls to get caught in anything, right? So she had taken him to get it done and from then on out if had been a constant set of appeals. 

_If I wear shorts, I don’t have to worry about my skirt getting caught in my bike_

_T-shirts are better because they’re made with more breathable fabric and I won’t sweat so much_

That unspoken, _If you just let me be have these shoes, and these socks, and these jeans, then no one will think twice when they tell me ‘That’ll be three fifty, young man’_

The last time Richie had seen Eddie, they were on the flirting edge of becoming dangerously human, and Eddie had wrapped himself in more layers than the summer took kindly too. He was losing the ability to hide the pitch of his voice behind the excuse of puberty. He had turned his eyes, dark and afraid and sad onto Richie and said, “Don’t ever call me that again.” And then he had shoved him, “I’m not pretty, boys aren’t pretty, don’t—” 

So Richie had blinked, and then he was forty. He’s faced down a clown, _twice_ , and he’s unearthed what makes him inherently Richie in the shape of his friends, and his freedom. He’s forty and he’s running his thumb over the rough stubble on Eddie’s face, a little shaggier than his usually clean shaven look from a stint in the hospital and his own midlife crisis. His cheekbones are sharp, defined and set into the handsome line of his jaw. Richie runs his hand down the sides of Eddie’s thin neck, to rest on his shoulders. Also slender but strong, defined with muscle to the fine dusting of hair on his chest. There’s scars there, faded and surgical unlike the handiwork of Pennywise, and Richie leans down to kiss the neat line that’s nearly invisible against his skin. 

“Can I tell you something?” Richie kisses back up Eddie’s jaw. 

Eddie makes a low whimpering sound, eyes fluttering open, “You have your fingers inside of me, think carefully of what you’re about to say.” 

It’s like a carefully crafted group of sleeper words that makes Richie curl said fingers, pulling them slowly out of his slick folds and over his clit. He teases over it, hard and twitching under his thumb and Richie can’t believe he’s suffering in the prison of his denim jeans right now, “God, I want to fuck you so bad.” 

“You already—” Eddie moans, rolling his hips towards Richie’s hand, “You already told me that— _Richie_.” 

Hearing his name like that, spilling off the lips of the boys he’s been in love with since he was eleven, desperate and needy makes Richie sit up, spreading Eddie’s knees. “Fuck, you’re so fucking—” _I’m not pretty, boys aren’t pretty, don’t—_. Richie shoves his pants off, his boxers tenting almost comically when he grips Eddie’s hips and gets oddly serious, “You’re the hottest guy i’ve ever seen in my life, and you make me really fucking glad i’m gay.” 

Eddie stares at him for a moment, face flushed and a little shell shocked and Richie is scared that he somehow managed to say the wrong thing. Again. But then he’s letting his head fall back against the pillow and laughing, entirely unguarded and beautiful. His thighs tremble when he pushes his knees up and he grins at Richie, soft and happy. “I really want you to fuck me.” 

This had been easy. Finding Eddie again, loving him again, kissing him open and honest and spreading him out on the bed. Eddie had let himself come undone at Richie’s touch, at his love. He had only faltered a moment when Richie was fumbling with Eddie’s belt buckle that Eddie had stilled his hand and said “I don’t know if you remember- that I’m” 

Richie has kissed him hard, “Trans? Yeah, dude, I was the first person you came out to.” He laughed against Eddie’s mouth and then settled, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Let me know if there’s something you’re uncomfortable with.” 

He learned quick that Eddie wasn’t uncomfortable with anything when it came to Richie. It made him feel wild now, pressed between Eddie’s toned thighs. He slips two of his fingers back inside of him, pumping in and out of him slowly while Eddie writhes against the mattress, desperate to find an angle that gets them closer, gets Richie moving faster. “You have a condom, baby?” 

Richie hadn’t set out to Derry with any sort of supplies, because he was going back to _Derry_. No one thinks of their hellish hometown in podunk Maine and thinks, ‘Can’t wait to sink my dick into some fiery little risk analyst that I’ve been having wet dreams about since I was thirteen’. He’s not surprised when Eddie shakes his head, but he’s floored when he pants into his mouth, “I don’t care, do it without one.” 

Yeah, on a primal, ‘I never evolved past a caveman’ level, Richie’s cock is twitching in his boxers at the thought of going in raw, but the part of him that managed to assimilate into society, pulls back and studies him. “You want me to— you want to do it without a condom?” 

Eddie makes a sad noise when Richie pulls his fingers out, “Do you have anything? Like herpes, or—”

“No.” Richie takes his glasses off because his face is sweaty and they’re sliding down his nose, “I’m clean, I just— you didn’t strike me as the type to be okay with the mess.” His words falter a little at the end, awkward and hung up like he’s a preteen trying to stutter his way through the reproduction chapter of his health textbook again. 

“Oh.” Eddie seems thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t know, I guess I usually would be but right now— I just want to feel all of you. It makes sense.” 

Richie falls back onto his butt and awkwardly shimmies his boxers up his thighs and over his knees, and it’s comical and ridiculous, but Eddie props himself up on his elbows and laughs, his eyes full of unshielded adoration and Richie has never felt sexier in his life. Eddie touches his fingers lightly to the inside of Richie’s knee and it tickles, but he runs them down the inside of his thigh and over his dick and Richie groans. “Ooookay.” He sings and Eddie is basically giggling against his mouth when he kisses him. 

He feels so light. So free and finally himself and Richie grins like an idiot into the kiss. Which is fine because Eddie does too, and it’s definitely the most he’s ever laughed with someone’s hand wrapped around his leaking cock. “You’re really big.” Eddie admits quietly, looking down at his hand, stroking Richie slowly, “I always thought you were just being an asshole when you made all those jokes about it.” 

“It wasn’t this big when I was making those jokes.” Richie admits, biting gently at Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie hums, his free hand slipping between his own thighs, and Richie can only look down for a moment. The sight of Eddie fingering himself while he’s giving Richie a handjob is enough to bring him right to the edge like some horny high schooler. “And then the universe thought, ‘huh, let’s give this giant dick a giant dick’.” 

“All the better to fuck you with, my dear.” Richie croons and knocks them both back into the pillows with breathless laughter. Richie lines himself up with Eddie’s opening, rubbing the head over the slick folds and lets the tip of it sink in a few times, teasing and building a tense pleasure. “You still want me too?” 

It’s a catch all for the entire situation. Do you still want me to do this without a condom? Still want to do this at all? Still want me? Your childhood best friend who never graduated past patterned button ups or loving you so entirely that he wasn’t sure there was room in his body for anything else? 

Eddie nods his head, pulls on Richie’s hips so that he sinks in a few inches. It’s a slow, easy slide, and Richie closes his eyes, lets his forehead rest against Eddie’s. He’s so wet, so ready from all the foreplay, and it’s the best heat Richie’s ever felt in his life. “Fuck, Eds, you feel so fucking good.” 

“So do you.” Eddie whimpers, flexing his hips underneath Richie to get him closer, to pull him in deeper, “I feel really full.” 

Richie kisses him, pushes his tongue into Eddie’s mouth at the first few slow thrusts of his hips, and then kisses his neck, “Say, ‘Thank you, Universe’.” 

“Stupid.” Eddie hums fondly. 

It’s unsurprising that neither of them is quiet during sex. They’re not quiet in their standard interactions, so why shouldn’t they bring out the most dialed up version of themselves. The best version of themselves, Richie decides, sitting back to take in this blissful, honest, satisfied Eddie that he wants to see all the time. He pulls Eddie’s thighs up over his lap, holds onto his waist and fucks into him harder. 

“Richie.” Eddie whines, lets his legs sprawl out wider over the tops of Richie’s, giving Richie a perfect view of himself disappearing into Eddie’s body. “Gonna make me come.” He presses his eyes shut, snaking a hand down his own body to press his fingers against his clit. 

“God, I hope so.” Richie grunts and licks his thumbs so that he can knock Eddie’s hand out of the way and rub against him in time with his thrusts, “I’m gonna go off any second and I don’t need you roasting me for being a two pump chump.” 

Eddies laugh is breathless and turns into a strangled moan, “Pull out, we can change positions and you can give yourself a moment to cool down. I’ve never felt this good in my life and I need you to hang in there.” 

“Yeah, it would be a little difficult to have sex with me if I drop dead. Here lies Richie Tozier, shuffled off this mortal coil doing what he loves—” He spends a couple more second working Eddie with his fingers, just to hear him make pretty noises, “The rigor mortis might be helpful though.” 

He gets a slap to the thigh for that and laughs when Eddie rolls his eyes, “Disgusting, Rich!”

Richie pulls out slowly, transfixed on the way Eddie’s body seems to contract around him, like the very cellular makeup of him wants to keep Richie seated inside. Even when he’s pulled all the way out, Eddie’s still a little open, wet and pink and Richie has to grip himself hard to keep from going off at the sight. He hooks an arm around Eddie’s thigh and hauls him roughly to the side of the bed, heaving Eddie’s leg over his shoulder. “If you fuck me like that you’re gonna come in two seconds, old man—” 

His words turn into a surprised cry when Richie ducks down and plants an open mouthed kiss on his clit before shoving his tongue inside of him. It’s easy after Richie had fucked him open already, and he presses in as deep as he can, chasing the bitter taste of his own precome mixed with Eddie. Richie already knows he’s addicted, that he’s now going to have to eat Eddie out all the time just to get his fix and Eddie gets _loud_. 

He sucks and licks and fucks his fingers in next to his tongue until his jaw aches. Until Eddie’s fingers tighten painfully in his hair and his cunt tightens and twitches, and he’s sobbing Richie’s name like a man being saved. Eddie rides out his orgasm on Richie’s fingers, body restless against the sheets and Richie sits back to admire his work. He thinks he finally understands all those weird artists, holed up in the Italian countryside with some fiery eyed muse, painting their prone lovers spread out on silk bed sheets. Writing poetry about their bodies like the waves sliding to shore. Eddie is making short whimpering noises and Richie is _smug_. 

He collapses up onto the mattress next to Eddie, all springy and creaky, courtesy of the Derry town house, and spreads his hand over Eddie’s chest. At eleven years old, Richie had wanted to make Eddie laugh. More than anything he wanted him to smile and to know that he was happy and that it was Richie who did it. He had wanted kisses, hugs, to hold his hand. When he was thirteen, fourteen and riddled with godless amounts of hormones he wanted to make Eddie feel good the way he knew he could make himself feel when he was in the shower or sweating out under the covers of his sheets when he was supposed to be sleeping. When he was sixteen he had wanted to hear his name on Eddie’s lips, broken with want and desire. 

And now he’s forty, with all of that and Eddie turning a blissed expression towards him in bed and whispering reverently, “I’m so in love with you.” So maybe it’s taken him nearly thirty years, but it got him to this moment. 

“Fuck yeah.” Richie breathes out, tears burning behind his eyes. 

Eddie scrunches his nose up for a moment, horribly _cute_ for a middle aged man, and then nods in fervent agreement, “Fuck yeah.” 

RIchie rolls over on top of him, sliding his thigh between Eddie’s as he kisses him. “I’m so in love with you too. I get to have that— we get to have that.” He grinds down gently on Eddie’s leg, “That stupid ass clown can choke for thinking he could take this from us.” 

“Let’s not talk about Pennywise in bed.” Eddie runs his hands over Richie’s side. “You can fuck me still.” 

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, because Eddie’s not even trying to talk dirty. All he’s done tonight is state things the way they are. Exactly what he wants and how he wants it, but something about the honesty in his words, the way he says it with that same chin tilted confidence of someone who threw a piece of lawn garbage through an aliens face and declared ‘Kiss my ass, death, you don’t fit into all of my carefully risk analyzed plans’— it has Richie dizzy with how turned on it makes him. 

“You’re not going to be too sensitive?” Richie lets Eddie manhandle him onto his side, situates his back against Richie’s chest. 

“No.” Eddie glances over his shoulder and grins, “It’ll feel good. You can make me come again.” He hikes his legs up, settles it over the top of Richie’s and reaches down to press Richie back against his opening. He slips back inside easily with Eddie so relaxed from one orgasm. 

Richie rolls his hips lazily, unhurried in the way he gets to hold Eddie like this. Like they’re simply cuddling, or trying to feel each other’s warmth. His love-addled, sex-fogged brain makes him think that they could very easily do this laying on the couch, watching TV after Eddie has a long day at work and Richie wants to help him unwind. How domestic this can all be. Eddie moans happily, holding Richie’s arm where it’s wrapped tight across his chest. 

They keep at it like this, steady and content, until they can’t. Until Eddie’s noises become louder, more desperate and he takes one of Richie’s hands between his own and shoves it down between Eddie’s thighs. Richie can feel where they’re connected, lets his fingers press around his cock with each thrust, sliding easily over skin with how wet Eddie’s gotten him. He kisses Eddie’s shoulder, breathing openly over his sweat damp skin when his rhythm stutters. 

Eddie is starting to constrict around him again, tight like his body is milking Richie’s cock and Richie is pushing in harder, faster, more frantic. He’s probably starting to crush Eddie between himself and the mattress, his body moving wildly on top of him now where he’s practically rolled Eddie onto his stomach. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind though, face pressed sideways into the mattress as every thrust punches out a broken, needy sound and mindless babbling of praises. Eddie is a vice around him by the time he laces his fingers in Richie’s and sobs out, “Do you want to come inside of me?” 

He isn’t even done with the question when Richie goes off, buried to the hilt and spilling into Eddie’s tight heat. Richie’s pretty sure he’s blacked out. Or passed out maybe. Or passed away. 

It’s hard to know when his vision is swimming back to him, starry and sleepy, and Eddie is a shivering mess underneath him. He blindly fumbles for his glasses, discarded on the mattress and shoves them onto his face, pushing himself up on tired, aching arms. He kisses Eddie once between the shoulder blades before he’s pulling out of him, come dribbling out of Eddie and onto the hideous floral duvet cover. ‘How d’ya like that picture, you pervy little demon’ Richie thinks for his younger, teenage self. A version of him that couldn’t even scratch the surface of how good this is in his _best_ sexual fantasies. 

He grips Eddie’s ass, pulls him apart so he can watch more of himself bubble up, creamy and white in Eddie’s opening, and Eddie whines in soft, embarrassed protest. Richie drags his finger through it, pushing it back inside and Eddie makes a louder noise then, “ ‘M sore, Rich, stop.” 

“Sorry.” Richie flops back down on the bed and grins, “You make me super horny, I feel like i’m in college again. I wanna be really gross with you.” 

“Aw.” Eddie turns his sleepy face towards him, “Thank you for the honor.” 

“For you, my love? Anything.” Richie scratches his fingers through Eddie’s hair, “I didn’t hurt you did I?” 

Eddie shakes his head, his eyes drifting shut for a moment, “Just sore.” He repeats, “Feels nice though, just not used to it.” 

Richie preens, “That’s right. Biggest dick you’ve ever taken.” He’s granting himself the title whether it’s true or not. 

And then Eddie stretches, shoulder popping quietly and says, “Only dick i’ve ever taken.” And Richie’s world sort of trip hops to a momentary halt. 

“Are you— Were you—” He props himself up on an elbow, “Eds, were you a virgin?” 

Eddie cracks open an annoyed looking eye, “Don’t say it like we're weird school girls from the fifties. I’ve done some stuff with other people, just not— _that_.” He sighs and pulls a pillow underneath his head, “I met Myra in college, so I didn’t do a lot of hooking up or experimenting with what I like. She told me right away that she’s asexual, didn’t want anything to do with sex, and I was perfectly fine with that, so no, I have never had penetrative, vaginal sex.” 

“I love when you get medical textbook with me.” Richie mutters and grins, all teeth when Eddie glares at him. 

Myra, who had told Eddie off for coming back to Derry, holding up her wedding ring and telling him, “If you walk out this door, i’m done.” And Eddie had simply nodded and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t expect you to wait for me.” Their subsequent conversation after the Losers had clawed their way out of the cistern for a second time, covered in blood and sludge and sewage, with Eddie itching at the spot on his face where Bower’s had stabbed him. A spot that had healed over like the scars on their hands when the Neibolt house fell into the earth. He had sat down on the floor of the phone booth and nodded, tired and resigned when he told Myra, “We both deserved better than what we gave each other.” 

Richie had wanted to hate the woman in The Jade of the Orient. But then he had seen Eddie’s tired smile on the phone, relieved and apologetic when Myra said something on the other end and he laughed and answered, “I made our wedding day a nightmare, it’s the least I can do to make our divorce a cake walk.” He had watched Eddie hang up the phone and sigh and set his shoulders back and say, “We were just two idiots drowning each other in shallow water” and he didn’t hate Myra at all. 

He drags his fingers over the ridges of Eddie’s spine, “For an inexperienced virgin, you really took it like a champ.” 

“Oh my god, Richie.” Eddie swats his hand away, “I’m forty years old, I know what I like, _I own a vibrator_.” He hisses out and Richie cackles. Eddie tries to look annoyed but there’s a grin tugging at his lips, “I wanted this— I want it, and i’m not going to feel nervous about having it.” 

Richie sits up then, “And you didn’t want it with anyone else?” 

Eddie shrugs and it’s got an edge of insecurity, “Yeah, I mean— I wanted to sleep with other guys sometimes, but— I didn’t trust them.” 

It’s in the way he says it, the curve of his shoulders like he’s fifteen again and trying to hide the curves of his body underneath an oversized hoodie, that makes it click for Richie. It took years to get Eddie here, all hard lines and muscles under tailored suits and cardigans. Scratchy black stubble if he doesn’t shave every day on a sharp jaw and a broad, flat chest with light hair over his sternum. It took years for Eddie to look in the mirror and actually see _Eddie_ staring back, but here in bed, intimate and unguarded? That required someone else to see him too, and that sort of thing is terrifying. He’s telling Richie that after twenty seven years, he _knows_ that Richie is only going to know him as Edward Kaspbrak, a boy and then a man, and he trusts him enough to share that with him. 

“I love you.” Richie says, knocking Eddie’s knees apart with his own. 

Eddie flushes at the words then groans, “Richie, I can’t go again yet.” 

“Shh.” Richie pulls him into his lap, “Me either. My heart and soul might be randy for you, but my body still has a refractory period. I gotta get at least seven hours of sleep these days or i’m useless, and my rest was interrupted by clown killing.” 

Eddie laughs and drapes his arms over Richie’s shoulders, “Randy.” He repeats and widens his eyes comically, “I love you too. Wanna take a shower with me?”

“No, I wanna go to bed. But I know you won’t cuddle with me if I don’t so— yes!” 

Eddie kisses him and kisses him and Richie feels like he finally gets to be himself entirely now, too. 

—

When Richie sits down at the communal breakfast table, Beverly slides a plastic cup from the Starlight Diner in front of him. “Mimosa?” She offers and settles back into her chair with a grin. 

“Huh.” Richie peers into the cup and takes a sip, the harsh burn of it makes him choke for a moment, “Is this tequila?” 

Beverly nods, “They didn’t have champagne so I improvised.” 

“It’s eight in the morning and you just made me a Horny Bull. I’ve really missed you Beverly, I think our lives going forward will be really enriched by each other.” Richie knocks his cup against Beverly’s but the lack of glass only makes a dull sound so he says, “Clink, clink” out loud. 

Beverly finishes her own drink and turns the most smug, self satisfied look on him, “You deserve it after last night's performance. Might’ve been your best one yet.” Richie can feel his face heating up, and so much for being a man without shame, “Netflix, who?” 

Richie lets out an embarrassed laugh, “Ah, I’m uh—” He chugs half his drink, “I didn’t think we were being that loud.” 

“You weren’t.” Beverly waves her hand around then, “The walls are basically paper thin around here, for once in your lives, you and Eddie were being perfectly reasonable. I gotta say though, Rich—” She leans forward then, “You guys laugh a lot. In bed together.” She smiles, “That’s really sweet.” 

“Hey.” Richie leans forward, voice threatening, “Don’t you let it out that I might be cute. Make sure you let everyone know that I lay it down like a god and I take no prisoners.” 

Beverly laughs and then gives him a thumbs up. “Happy for you. You two deserve it.” 

Richie sips his drink in a comfortable silence while Beverly makes another one for herself and when she collapses back into her seat he finally says, “He can come multiple times. Just keeps going.” 

“Cool, isn’t it?” Beverly lifts her eyebrows knowingly, “Wait until you find out he can have different kinds of orgasms.” 

Richie chokes on his drink, “He can— What, how? Bev, tell me.” 

“Google is so free.” Bev pats his cheek then looks up and smiles wide, “Good morning, Eds, do you want a mimosa?”


End file.
